


The Sexual Miseducation Of Julian Alfred Pankratz

by Witcher_Trash_Party



Series: Witcher Trash Party [3]
Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Alpha Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, First Time, Fluff and Smut, Hands on Sex Ed, Knotting, Loss of Virginity, M/M, Omega Jaskier | Dandelion, Wedding Night, geralt is soft and in love even if he refuses to admit it, jaskier is clueless about sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-25
Updated: 2020-10-25
Packaged: 2021-03-08 21:48:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,575
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27193351
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Witcher_Trash_Party/pseuds/Witcher_Trash_Party
Summary: “That’s not sex,” Jaskier disagrees. “Nobody has ever touched my asshole during sex before, and I’ve had plenty of sex, so I should know.”Geralt blinks, once, twice, and when the conviction doesn’t disappear from Jaskier’s face, he lets out a long-suffering sigh.Just be patient,he tells himself. “Tell me, Jaskier, what - in your experience -issex?”
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Series: Witcher Trash Party [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1990582
Comments: 29
Kudos: 1225





	The Sexual Miseducation Of Julian Alfred Pankratz

**Author's Note:**

> _"[...] Jaskier has fooled around with other “virgin” omegas, but he doesn’t actually know that much about sex, just getting off. Anyway, he winds up in an arrangement where Geralt is now his alpha (marriage or maybe he was awarded for a job?) and Geralt realizes that despite being a marriageable adult, Jaskier knows just about nothing of sex."_

“Thank the gods you showed up, master witcher,” the lord says, watching from afar as Geralt cuts into the fresh cockatrice corpse laying on the ground, harvesting potion ingredients and other useful parts, “it would have killed me, if it weren’t for you. I’m forever grateful. I’m Lord Kasper of Mermiral, by the way.”

Geralt hums, engrossed in pulling out the cockatrice’s feathers - he’ll sell them to be made into quills. “Geralt.”

“How can I repay you, Geralt?” the lord asks.

“Coin,” Geralt answers. Coin can get him everything he needs. Food, a bed, a bath, alcohol, and maybe even some company for the night.

Lord Kasper laughs like Geralt just made the joke of the century. “Of course. You’ll get your coin - though I cannot offer you much of it, I am afraid. Anything you’d want besides that?”

“Witchers don’t _want_ anything,” Geralt growls, as he stuffs all of his harvest into Roach’s saddlebags.

“Don’t be ridiculous, witcher,” Kasper counters. “Even a dog wants a bone. Your horse wants apples. If animals want, then a witcher surely must want, too.”

“Fine - you’ll give me that which you have home yet did not expect,” Geralt decides. He has no idea what has possessed him to claim the Law of Surprise, considering the luck Eskel had with it - but he doubts that there’s a princess born under the Black Sun in the area (he thinks meeting two is enough for a lifetime).

Lord Kasper nods. “It’s settled, then - coin and a Surprise. I must warn you not to get your hopes up: I am without a wife, so it won’t be a child - “

Geralt shrugs. He _hopes_ it’s not a child - it wouldn’t be possible to make them into a _real_ witcher, and sending someone without mutations out on the Path would be just signing a death sentence. He hopes it’s… he doesn’t know. Something he can eat, maybe, or something he can sell.

A woman’s voice greets them. “Kasper, finally you’re back - I’ve got fantastic news for you!”

“I did not expect any news,” lord Kasper remarks under his breath as the woman - his mother, presumably - draws closer. “That must be your reward, witcher.”

Geralt braces himself for whatever might be coming.

“Kasper, you’re getting married!”

Geralt definitely did not expect this. He had prepared himself for everything _but_ this: a bastard, a puppy, a sword, a sack of grain - but not a wife.

Lord Kasper blinks. “I’m sorry, ma?”

“You’re getting married!” his mother smiles. “After all those negotiations, the Lettenhoves are finally here to sign the marriage contract. The wedding will be tomorrow.”

“Oh,” Kasper simply says.

That’s when the lady finally notices Geralt, standing just a few feet away. “Who’s - who’s this, Kasper?” she asks. Something in her voice betrays that she already has a pretty good idea what has happened, but needs to make sure.

“This is witcher Geralt,” Lord Kasper says, his voice absolutely even. “He saved me from a monster and claimed the Law of Surprise. I did not expect to find a bride when i came home, therefore - I am not getting married, Geralt is.”

“I am not interested in marrying a noble,” Geralt hisses. “You can keep your bride - “

“Fuck that,” Lord Kasper spits. “I am not meddling with Destiny - you laid your claim on him, so you’ll take him. That’s the end of it. Do whatever you want with him, after, but take him off my hands - I won’t risk keeping him.”

Geralt is led to the sitting room where the rest of the company is. Around a low table that has the marriage contract laid out all over it sit the Viscount and the Viscountess de Lettenhove and what must be their son - a young man, fresh out of boyhood, dressed in vibrant silks and smelling sweeter than any tart - an omega.

Lord Kasper gestures in his general direction. “This, Geralt, is your Surprise - Julian Alfred Pankratz - your bride.”

All three Lettenhoves let out a shocked gasp - but the omega’s eyes shine with joy at the news.

“A witcher!” he squeals, while the rest of his family stares in horror. “My my, that’s truly wonderful - the first witcher I meet, and I even get to marry him - and the Butcher of Blaviken, no less - “

“I would - “ Geralt growls and immediately stops himself as he’s hit in the face with the strong scent of fear wafting off the parents, takes a deep breath and starts again, softer this time: “I would prefer it if you did not call me that.”

“Of course! Not many people wish to be called that which others chose for them - actually, Geralt, I strongly urge you to call me Jaskier. Though I guess ‘ _wife_ ’ will do in a pinch.”

Eventually, everyone begrudgingly agrees to give Jaskier to Geralt instead of lord Kasper of Mermiral - at the insistence of lord Kasper himself, to Geralt’s tremendous surprise. The lord doesn’t seem too disappointed by this turn of events - meanwhile Jaskier is positively _thrilled_ at the prospect of marrying a witcher.

Geralt finds Jaskier rather peculiar. He doesn’t smell of fear when he looks at Geralt, what is more, he grins in delight when Geralt signs the marriage contract. He’s pretty and loud, and he looks soft and boyish even despite the dark hair peeking out of the vee of his doublet. His smell is sweet but not cloying the way some omegas’ smells are for Geralt. There’s really no reason for Geralt to protest against the marriage; a pretty, young, _willing_ omega for a wife - what more could an alpha like Geralt ask for?

But he can’t help but think about what will happen with all that sweetness and softness out on the Path. The Path is hard even on those used to walking it. What effect will it have on a noble omega like Jaskier? The constant hunger will eat away at his softness, the blood and guts and hatred will chip away at his cheerful nature.

The Path is no place for Jaskier. Geralt will marry him, yes, just to ease everyone’s mind - and then he’ll drop him off somewhere safe.

The ceremony the next day is a short and modest affair. No one seems too happy to attend it - except for Jaskier, of course, who’s smiling the whole time. He’s smiling as he’s led to the altar, he’s smiling as his and Geralt’s hands are fasted together with a ribbon, he’s smiling as they say their vows, he’s smiling as he plays a love song on his lute, and he’s smiling as they wine and dine to celebrate their union, Jaskier sitting by Geralt’s side, touching him casually, whispering to him about anything that crosses his mind.

It almost makes Geralt smile, too.

They retire to Geralt’s guest room as night falls outside.

Jaskier, smelling like lust and nerves, sits on the bed while Geralt gets the fire going.

“I know what you’re thinking,” the omega says. “You’re thinking that this is going to be my first time having sex.”

“I’m not thinking that.” It’s the truth, he’s not - it would actually be much better if Geralt did not take Jaskier’s virginity. It won’t get as ugly when he leaves him somewhere. “Is it? Your first time?”

Jaskier scoffs. “Of course not. I had plenty of sex when I was studying at Oxenfurt.” He’s quiet for a moment, and then he asks, in a small voice: “Are you mad?”

“Not at all,” Geralt assures him. He knows the majority of nobles - and even some peasants - would be outraged at the confession, but he’s not. He’s a witcher - Jaskier will never give him pups, so there’s no reason to worry about his sexual purity. “I’m glad. It will be easier for you if you already know what to expect.” Geralt is not exactly _small_.

Jaskier’s anxiety dissipates. “Good,” he smiles. “You really are the best husband I could ask for. Now, shall we consummate our marriage? Do the deed? Swordfight? Make the beast with two backs?”

Geralt rolls his eyes at Jaskier’s antics, but he does turn to Jaskier and leans down to kiss him. It’s not chaste at all - Geralt captures Jaskier’s lips and coaxes them open immediately. Geralt doesn’t want to give his bride too much softness, lest he gets the wrong idea about their relationship, and Jaskier doesn’t seem to mind them getting straight into it.

Geralt unlaces the omega’s wedding doublet and pushes it down his shoulders. His hands slip beneath the thin chemise underneath it, and he’s surprised to find thick hair covering his chest and his belly. Surprised, but not disappointed. He tugs at it and Jaskier gasps into his mouth. His reaction is so lovely Geralt does it again.

When he thumbs at Jaskier’s nipples, the boy throws his head back, moaning, and a slightly salty smell joins his overall sweetness - his body starting to produce slick. Geralt latches his mouth onto Jaskier’s neck, sucking at his scent glands, teasing with just the hint of teeth - omegas can’t be marked when not in heat, but the promise of it drives them crazy everytime, Jaskier no exception, whining and scrabbling desperately at Geralt’s jerkin (that Kasper generously lended him for the wedding) to get it off.

Geralt help him with it, and then he pulls Jaskier’s chemise over his head and leaves it to land somewhere in the room. The omega’s chest is adorably furry and his skin is flushed with arousal. He’s still wiry with youth, but there’s some muscle on him, too - maybe he’d survive the Path after all -

Geralt pushes such ridiculous thoughts from his mind. He only married Jaskier because everyone was too afraid of Destiny to let him leave without it. He’s going to spend a couple of very nice nights with Jaskier, and then he’ll drop him off at some court, or in Oxenfurt - the boy said he’s a bard. Hopefully, that will be the end of it.

He pinches one of Jaskier’s pink, hardened nipples, covering the other one with his mouth.

“Oh sweet Melitele,” Jaskier hisses and weaves his fingers in Geralt’s hair.

Geralt hums, pleased. “Your tits that sensitive?” He smirks, and when Jaskier only gives a shaky nod, he turns his attention to them once again, rubbing and pinching one with his fingers, licking, sucking and lightly biting at the one in his mouth. Jaskier makes absolutely divine noises under him, keening and pleading, squirming all the while. Geralt is starting to doubt just how much experience this boy has - perhaps _plenty of sex_ is pushing it and it’s closer to _some sex_. Doesn’t matter - he’s sweet like this.

He unlaces Jaskier’s breeches and pulls them down along with his smallclothes and the smell of the omega’s slick hits him full force.

Between Jaskier’s milky thighs (that Geralt suddenly desires to sink his teeth into), surrounded by a thatch of dark hair, his cock stands at attention, small and drooling. Geralt drops his eyes lower, where his hole twitches, muscle shiny with the slick he’s producing.

Excited, Jaskier opens Geralt’s trousers as well and reaches inside, pulling out his cock. He spits into his hand, wraps it around Geralt and starts stroking him, capturing the alpha’s lips in another kiss. “Touch me too, _please_ ,” he whines into Geralt’s mouth.

Geralt obliges him. His hands spread his thighs wider and he dips one beneath the swell of Jaskier’s balls, teasing his wet, furled entrance with a fingertip.

Jaskier squeaks and his whole body jerks and Geralt is not sure if it’s away from him or towards him. But the smell of Jaskier’s lust dwindles, nerves returning, accompanied by what Geralt can only categorize as confusion, so he pulls his hand away and rests both of them on the more neutral zone of Jaskier’s hips.

“Why are you touching my ass?” Jaskier asks, eyes wide, honestly dumbfounded. “Is - is that some kind of a kink?”

Geralt is now as confused as Jaskier. “No,” he says, slowly, “that’s just regular sex.”

“That’s not sex,” Jaskier disagrees. “Nobody has ever touched my asshole during sex before, and I’ve had plenty of sex, so I should know.”

Geralt blinks, once, twice, and when the conviction doesn’t disappear from Jaskier’s face, he lets out a long-suffering sigh. _Just be patient,_ he tells himself. “Tell me, Jaskier, what - in your experience - _is_ sex?”

“Well, um - “ Jaskier blushes, this time from embarrassment. “You stroke your cocks together - or you stroke each other - or you rub them together, until you both come. I think you can use your mouth, too, but I never got there at Oxenfurt...”

“And who did you have sex with, Jaskier? Any alphas?”

Jaskier shakes his head. “Just omegas. Mostly other boys,” he says. “But it can’t be _that_ different with an alpha.”

Geralt doesn’t know if this situation is funny or sad. Perhaps both. Jaskier and all his other noble omega friends have grown up so sheltered they did not know what _proper_ sex was and assumed that a _handjob_ was the pinnacle of intimity. Jaskier has, not even once in his whole life, had anything up his ass. He has not even _thought_ about it, since he did not know it was done. Geralt has married him and the boy didn’t even know how they should have sex together. Which meant that Jaskier was _still a virgin_.

For the first time this evening, uncertainty shows on Jaskier’s face. “...or at least, that’s what I thought?”

Stupid fucking nobles, damn Jaskier’s upbringing. His own husband has to explain to him what sex is on their wedding night.

“When alphas and omegas have sex,” Geralt starts, trying to keep his voice gentle so as not to spook the omega, even though he’s fuming on the inside, “usually, the alpha puts their cock in the omega’s hole. That’s why it gets wet when you’re aroused, so that it makes the penetration easier.”

“So… I wasn’t having sex?”

“You were having _some form_ of sex,” Geralt reassures him, “but there’s much more that can be done.”

Jaskier picks at the bedding, brows furrowed in thought. “Are you - are you going to do that? Are you going to put your cock in my ass?” His gaze drops to where Geralt’s length is still hanging, half hard, out of his trousers, his pupils widening minutely, though it’s hard to tell if it’s in arousal or fear, Jaskier’s scent mostly just anxiety and slick.

“I won’t force you into anything you don’t want to do,” Geralt says. He pats Jaskier’s hip. “If rubbing together is all you want to do - or if you don’t want to do anything at all - we’ll only do what you’re comfortable doing, okay?” He’s planning to get rid of the boy as soon as the opportunity presents itself, but he’s not a monster. He’s not going to _rape_ him just because he wants to get his dick wet - his hand is good enough to bring him off.

“I - um, I - “ Jaskier stammers, “I think I want that. You putting your cock in my ass, I mean. Um, please?”

Oh, he’s so sweet.

“Well, if I’m to actually fuck you, there is one more thing you need to know. When I come, _this_ \- “ he squeezes the knot at the base of his cock, hidden by the cloth around it until now, “will swell and lock us together for a while. It’s called a knot and it helps the alpha stay inside the omega longer while preventing their cum from leaking out, thus heightening the possibility of the omega getting pregnant.”

Jaskier listens, absolutely enraptured. He’s still nervous, but the lust smell returns, maybe even stronger than before - it seems that the prospect of a new sexual adventure with his husband excites him more than the unknown scares him. “I thought witchers were - “

“We’re infertile,” Geralt agrees. “You don’t have to worry about pups when having sex with me. But my body works just like a normal alpha’s. So, do you want me to knot you?”

“Is it - is it good?”

“Omegas and alphas both usually enjoy it, but that doesn’t necessarily mean - “

“You like it?” Jaskier interrupts him, sneaking his hand around Geralt’s cock once again, feeling out the not-yet-inflated knot with an almost child-like curiosity.

Geralt didn’t have many opportunities to knot someone and just enjoy the closeness, the warmth of it - whores charge extra for it and Geralt’s already paying more than human alphas - but the few times he was able to experience it, with other witchers or just adventurous omegas or betas, it was amazing. “Yes, I do.”

“In that case I want to try,” Jaskier decides, massaging Geralt’s knot gently. “Maybe I’ll like it too.”

Under Jaskier’s attentions, Geralt’s dick has returned to full hardness. If Jaskier were a little experienced in taking cock, Geralt would just quickly stretch him and take him with just the slick to ease the way and it would be enough, but since this is his first time, he will need to take precautions. He extricates himself from Jaskier’s grip, walks over to his pack and procures a bottle of cooking oil, stripping his tunic, pants and smallclothes as he goes.

“Take a pillow, put it under your ass,” Geralt instructs Jaskier, and the boy scrambles to obey. He shyly spreads his legs so that Geralt can settle between his thighs.

He debates on eating Jaskier out, but he decides against it - this time. It might be too much for him when he has never before considered his asshole in a sexual context, but Geralt promises himself that he’ll eat Jaskier’s ass at least once before he parts with him. He _can’t_ leave the boy before he tastes his slick, before he makes him mewl in pleasure and come from Geralt’s mouth alone…

But tonight, he can at least suck his cock, to distract him from the stretch. The omega has gone a little soft during their talk, but even if he were fully erect, it wouldn’t be a problem for Geralt to take the whole of him into his mouth as his oiled finger prods at Jaskier’s entrance.

“ _Fuck_!” Jaskier swears, his fingers tangling in Geralt’s hair, his little cock twitching in Geralt’s mouth. “Oh, alpha, that feels absolutely divine,” he babbles, “ _fuck_ , so much better than a hand - _oh_!“

Jaskier’s muscles resist for a bit, until his omegan instincts kick in and he bears down, allowing Geralt to slip his finger further inside. Jaskier is wonderfully slick and he gushes more around Geralt’s digit when Geralt sucks on the head of his prick.

“That’s good,” Geralt murmurs as he noses at Jaskier’s groin - where his scent is the strongest, the dark hair trapping it - watching as his finger moves in and out of Jaskier’s body in an easy rhythm. “So open, so wet - such a good omega for me. Are you ready for another finger?”

Jaskier groans. “Yeah,” he says. “Please, give it to me - “

Geralt obliges, pushing a second finger in alongside with the first, slowly, so that Jaskier can adjust. The boy hisses, but he twists his hips as if he’s trying to get Geralt deeper and faster inside himself and there’s no pain in his scent, only his salty-sweet arousal. Geralt crooks his fingers, searching -

Jaskier cries out like he’s being murdered, but in the best way possible. “Geralt, Geralt - that - _fuuuuck_ , do it again - feels _so good_ \- “

He repeats the motion, rubbing Jaskier’s prostate while delivering feather-light kisses to his prick, and Jaskier moans again, his fingers tightening in Geralt’s hair minutely. Geralt stops before it gets too much - he wants Jaskier to come on his cock and not a second sooner - instead opting to scissor his fingers apart, stretching the tight slick channel as best he can. Jaskier lets out a pitiful whine at the change.

Soon enough, Geralt adds another finger, and Jaskier finally seems to fully relax into the pleasure his alpha is giving him. Still, Geralt tucks in a fourth finger just for good luck, and when he spreads Jaskier open on them without any effort, he deems him ready to be finally deflowered.

Jaskier’s hole is so wet with oil and slick that Geralt doesn’t even need to slick himself up. He just lines up his cock with Jaskier’s hole and presses in. Jaskier’s body welcomes him, hot and wet and tight and _perfect_ \- the knowledge that he’s the first makes him almost lightheaded.

He works himself inside slowly, in tiny little grinds and thrusts, watching Jaskier’s face for any signs of discomfort, but the omega just lies there - head thrown back, lids fluttering, eyes almost closed, eyebrows drawn together in pleasure, his mouth half open, moaning softly, the sound stopping only when he takes a breath. It’s a beautiful sight.

“ _Fuck_ , your cock is amazing,” Jaskier whines. “Feels so _fucking_ good inside me, spearing me open, filling me up - “

When Geralt bottoms out, he waits for a moment, letting Jaskier get used to the sensation of being _full_. He strokes Jaskier’s sides, rubs his nipples again - Jaskier’s breath hitches at that - takes his thighs and guides Jaskier to cross them behind Geralt’s back. “Lovely,” he murmurs, “you are such a lovely omega, Jaskier, such a wonderful little wife.” He might regret the words when he leaves Jaskier, but he can’t help the softness that overtakes him and bleeds into his words at the feeling of the virginal clutch of Jaskier’s body, at the sight of someone so beautiful and young and innocent and lively laid out before him, at his mercy.

He wants nothing more than to _keep_ Jaskier. He chases the thought away.

“You ready?”

Jaskier’s eyes snap open. “Yes,” he says. “ _Fuck me_ , alpha mine.”

Geralt moves. He pulls out just a little and thrusts back in, setting a lazy rhythm to test the waters, but Jaskier just levels him with an unimpressed look.

“I’m a virgin, but I’m not made out of glass.”

“Don’t be such a brat,” Geralt tells him. “You didn’t even know about fucking until tonight.”

“Doesn’t mean my body can’t handle it,” Jaskier smirks at him mischievously, and, to emphasize his point, he clenches around Geralt, squeezing him in an absolutely sinful way.

Geralt self-control slips. “Don’t start crying like a baby when it turns out to be too much for you, then,” he grunts, and pulls out almost all the way before slamming back in, his balls slapping against Jaskier’s ass.

Jaskier howls in delight. “Oh, yes - Geralt, _more_ , just like _that_ \- “

If that’s what Jaskier wants, Geralt sees no reason not to give it to him. He sets a brutal pace, snapping his hips forward quickly, always angling for Jaskier’s prostate. He has a death grip on the boy’s bony hips, to pull him back on his cock with every thrust. The bed creaks and protests under them but Geralt pays it no mind, only listening to Jaskier’s sounds.

The omega moans and whines and gasps as he’s pounded hard, short fragments of actual words only sometimes slipping through. Geralt pieces together _“Geralt,”_ and _“alpha,”_ and _“good,”_ and _“more,”_ and _“fuck,”_ and _“yes,”_ , though his chatterbox of and omega attempts many others that can’t be deciphered. He keeps digging his heels into Geralt’s lower back, urging him to get deeper into him, deeper still - his desperation is absolutely endearing.

After one particularly well-executed thrust, Jaskier _screams_ and comes all over his hairy belly, drops of pearly white getting caught in the hair, his hole fluttering around Geralt’s cock.

Geralt keeps fucking him, feeling his own climax nearing - his knot starting to swell up, popping in and out of Jaskier’s hole - there are tears in Jaskier’s eyes now, either from over-stimulation or from the way Geralt’s half-formed knot tugs at his puffy rim, and he’s whining and keening, making high, pitiful sounds, but he doesn’t say no, doesn’t beg Geralt to stop, and there’s no distress in his scent -

“Knot me, alpha,” he grits out, “fill me up, _please_.”

That’s all that it takes for Geralt to come. His knot pops in one last time as he spends himself in Jaskier’s body and he buries his groan in Jaskier’s shoulder, biting at it. He keeps grinding his cock deeper, trying to push his come as far into Jaskier as possible. He can’t get his wife pregnant, but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t want Jaskier to be filled to the brim with him.

Doesn’t mean he doesn’t want to make Jaskier his. Doesn’t mean he isn’t desperate to keep Jaskier by his side forever.

_Fuck._

“Fuck,” he groans, nuzzling Jaskier’s neck, to get as close as he can to his scent gland. “Fuck, I don’t want to let you go.”

“Then don’t,” Jaskier says. There’s a tease in his voice, and judging by the way he wraps his legs even tighter around Geralt, he thinks Geralt is talking only about the knot keeping them together, and not about their entire future. He confirms it when he continues, “It feels so nice, wanna stay like this forever.”

“You’d like that? You’d like to stay locked together…?”

“Yeah,” Jaskier grins. He clenches around Geralt, squeezing his still hard cock. “There’s nowhere I’d rather be than here. Stuck on your knot.”

Well, maybe… Maybe if Jaskier wishes it so, they should stay together. He’ll give Jaskier a choice - one that he can rethink any time - and they’ll try to make it work on the Path. And if a witcher’s lifestyle would prove to be too hard on Jaskier, then Geralt will set him up somewhere safer, somewhere more comfortable - and perhaps he will make a habit of visiting, and visiting often.

After all, what kind of a husband would he be if he left his wife behind?

Geralt kisses him, slow and gentle, unhurried. “You can get on my knot any time, dear wife.”

“Thank you, husband dearest,” Jaskier says, and it’s with such a sincere solemnity in his eyes, that Geralt suspects he might have known what Geralt was talking about, after all.

Geralt reaches for the closest article of clothing - Jaskier’s smallclothes - and uses them to wipe the worst of the mess on Jaskier’s chest. Then he rolls them over, so that Jaskier, lighter and smaller, rests on his chest as he himself lies on his back, and pulls the covers around them. He makes the sign for Ard to blow out the candles.

Jaskier is illuminated from behind by the fire, but Geralt can still see the wonder in his eyes.

“That’s awesome,” he whispers, and Geralt can smell that he means it. He’s amazed and not even a little afraid. “Gods, I have the most awesome husband on the Continent.”

There’s really no way Geralt is voluntarily leaving him.

“I can light them, too,” he says, preening just a little. Jaskier’s attention makes him feel all warm and soft, and each of those warm and soft feelings is intensified tenfold by the sensation of Jaskier’s heat around his cock.

“ _Awesome_ ,” Jaskier repeats, and cuddles up to Geralt’s chest, tucking his head under Geralt’s chin, pressing a kiss to his breastbone. Then, a thought strikes him, and he pulls away to look Geralt in the eye: “Will you fuck me in the morning, too?”

“If that’s what you want, then sure,” Geralt promises.

Jaskier _beams_ at him before finally laying down to sleep.

**Author's Note:**

> You can find me on tumblr as [@witchertrashparty](https://witchertrashparty.tumblr.com/)!


End file.
